


At Least There Aren't Mosquitos

by WetSammyWinchester



Series: Wincest Love Week - Summer 2016 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Camping, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why the Winchesters have never gone camping. </p><p>Wincest Love Week Summer edition - Camping in the woods prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Least There Aren't Mosquitos

"No, absolutely not. It's not gonna happen."

"Dean, c'mon. It's probably a lot cleaner than some of the motels we've stayed in."

Dean looked at the used tent that Sam had purchased at a local thrift store before they headed into the woods on their latest case. As he pulled the front flap back delicately between his two fingers, a smell hit his nose that was a cross between dirty socks and bleu cheese. He dropped the nylon and stepped away.

"Yeah, the answer is still no. Sorry, Sam, I don't feel like catching Ebola today."

It was a shame because he was looking forward to spending the night outdoors with Sam. Normally it wasn't his thing but Sam was as excited about camping as a kid with money to spend at the comic book store. His brother insisted on putting up the tent himself and Dean watched with amusement as he struggled with the contraption, planting the stakes and tightening the cables, while Dean made dinner for them over the camp stove. The ratty tan and green structure looked like it saw its best days when his little brother was still in diapers.

"What are we supposed to do instead?" Sam said, as Dean walked back to their fire pit.

"You're the one that wanted to go camping. Maybe we sleep under the stars I guess. Looks like it's going to be a clear night." Dean scooped up some chili from the pot on the camp stove and handed the bowl over to his brother. Sam sniffed it tentatively, wrinkling his nose as if his brother just handed him a bowl of rotten eggs.

"It's chili, dude. Sorry if the menu tonight doesn't include any chicken Caesar salad for you. You need to get over your fussy food thing if you want to go camping, Sam."

"And you need to get over your germaphobe thing, Dean."

Behind them, one of the grommets on the tent popped loose from its rope and the sad nylon fluttered dramatically to the ground. Sam dropped his shoulders with a big sigh.

"Consider that a sign."

"A sign of what?"

"A sign that we should never, ever go camping again."


End file.
